A Question of Model Year
by LStarrunner
Summary: Ironhide finds himself the subject of a young mech's affection. He is torn between wanting to return the affection & fear he might be perceived as taking advantage of such a sweet young person, fear he might truly be too old. MorMA.G1.Slash. Unusual pair.
1. What You're Not Doing

Title:_ What You're Not Doing_

Universe: G1 cartoon.

Rated: NC-17 for detailed physical intimacy between mechanical beings, 'plug-n-play' discussed. This won the July 2007 anniversary challenge at MechaErotica, inspired by January's WTF prompt.

Pairing: Ironhide/a trainee.

Author's Note: Recognizable Characters/Names belong to corporations; I'm just playing with them. 9093 words.

* * *

Ironhide blamed Ratchet for the young mech's crush: if the CMO hadn't delegated Ironhide's periodic visits to the youngster, he would never have even looked twice at Ironhide, let alone developed such an unhealthy fascination with his old self. 

"It ain't right, Optimus," he drawled slowly, shaking his head and studying the ground as he walked the path from the Ark around the volcano with his friend one evening. "Whenever he's not on duty with Ratchet or trainin' with his brothers, he's stalkin' me. This is the first time in a month he hasn't stayed in the office all afternoon!"

Prime laughed - laughed! - at him as he fretted, obviously finding the whole thing entertaining. "Old friend, you are amazing!" he said as he clapped the red 'Bot on the back, trying to encourage him. "He's one of the all-around kindest, gentlest sparks in the Ark-"

Ironhide interjected: "One o' the youngest!"

Prime ignored him. "-and he's taken a liking to you. You, Ironhide. Not one of the Lamborghinis, who seem to garner nearly everyone's favor at some point or other; not one of his brothers, who would seem to be the most obvious mechs for each other; not any of the younger set, which includes the one mech he spends the most time with along with Ratchet. You. I'm proud of you for worrying about taking advantage of him, but this has gone on so long that I think you need to let him take advantage of you. Do you not like him?"

"What? No, Optimus, o' course I like him... He's great! If I were a few thousand cycles younger, or he 're a few thousand cycles older - Optimus, he doesn't even have a full stellar in his armor yet!"

They had passed the curve of the mountain and were out of sight of the Ark completely now. Omega Supreme hailed them, they waved and kept walking. Optimus had brought Ironhide outside at the end of the day, ostensibly to 'get some fresh air', something he'd decided was as good for their morale as humans'. Ironhide disagreed, but not stridently. It was nice to have time with his friend as a friend, not his bodyguard or chief administrator.

Prime stopped. Ironhide stopped beside him, looking around suspiciously. Optimus looked down at him, still openly amused at his discomfort. "Do you know what the average life span of the indigenous people here is, Ironhide?"

Ironhide shook his head - the demographical data on humans was not something he cared to keep in his actual memory, opting to keep things he cared about that would otherwise be lost instead. And he did not want another upgrade from Ratchet - he felt like he was at his limit as it was, keeping track of how things were currently partitioned!

"They are lucky to see 100 of their basic solar cycles. Think about that, now."

"He's not even that old, Optimus, and I've seen-" Ironhide began.

"You are missing my point," Prime cut him off firmly. Serious now, he turned to look squarely down at his friend. "Your processor can be as hard to get through as your skin! Their lives are so short, and they know it, and they have a saying about it. It's not creative or witty, but it has a point: life's too short. Ironhide," he sighed, "how long has it been since you ..." he trailed off, uncertain how to broach this topic with his friend. It was not generally a matter mechs discussed.

"Ah, fraggit, Optimus!" Ironhide looked away, out towards the sunset. "I know what yer going for. And it's been a long time. Since Chromia." He paused. "But that's not important! What we had back then, it was special, it was ..." he cycled air through his systems, thinking, "It was enough for a lifetime, Optimus."

"It's good for you that you can say that. But what I want you to think about is that we are at war, Ironhide, we have been for as long as I've been aware and until something drastic changes, we will continue to be." Prime looked away as Ironhide turned back to look at him, curiously. Optics far away, he finished his argument: "What I'm saying is, don't you think he deserves to have a chance to say that, too? He's not looking at anyone else because he's drawn to you. Not someone you think is better for him. You. Do you think your age makes you less worthy of that affection, that trust, that honor? When we are in circumstances that make it unlikely that any of us will survive even one human lifetime longer?" He looked back down at Ironhide. "Life's too short to let minor details like 'model year' keep you from sharing your time."

Ironhide smiled at his use of that term. It was something the younger 'Bots had picked up and Optimus particularly liked it, saying he and the other senior officers were 'classics' while some in their ranks were 'late models'. "I know what yer tryin' ta say. I also knew his creator's creator. B'fore he decided to create a 'Bot." He shook his head again, at a loss for words. "Well." It was a one-word statement.

"I want you to stop agonizing over being too old for him. You could lie and tell him you are absolutely not interested, or you can do something about it. Watching him watch you is driving Ratchet to distraction." At Ironhide's sharp look, Prime's optics twinkled above the mask. "You didn't know that, did you? Ratchet has come to me twice now, wanting to know what you're doing with his trainee."

Indignant, Ironhide protested his innocence: "I'm not doin' a thing with his trainee!"

"That's what I told him." Drawing it out, Prime enjoyed teasing his friend. "Do you know what his response was?" and he waited for Ironhide to answer.

_Patience,_ Ironhide spelled the word out in his processor, first in Cybertronian, including 5 extinct regional dialects, then Mandarin, Cantonese, Hindi, English and finally each of those in binary before giving Prime what he obviously wanted. "No, Optimus, I don't know what Ratchet said ta that."

Satisfied, Prime enlightened him, sounding as righteously annoying as only a Prime could, "He said that must be the problem then, what you're not doing with him."

-X-X-X-

A few days later, Ironhide slipped into medical when he thought his admirer was out drilling with his brothers. Ratchet looked up from where he was supervising First Aid's analysis of something Ironhide did not recognize. Ratchet smiled, "'Hide, you're early. Your appointment's not until tomorrow."

"I know, Ratchet, I just need ta talk ta you," he answered, looking pointedly toward Ratchet's office in the back. "Mornin', 'Aid," he said neutrally, acknowledging the Protectobot.

First Aid returned the greeting with a smile. Ratchet told his apprentice to keep at it and left him, leading Ironhide into the office. "So, what brings you to my repair bay today?" he asked as he walked.

Ironhide thought he detected the barest hint of laughter in that question, but ignored it, walking past Ratchet into the smaller room. He would have sworn he felt the youngster's optics on him all the way. Ratchet closed the door and leaned on the latch. As he turned to look at the ambulance, Ironhide realized he was trapped, but decided he didn't mind: if Ratchet had something to say to him, he wanted to know it, not have him going behind his back to Optimus like that anymore. He said so: "If ya have somethin' ta say ta me, Ratch', say it ta me, not ta Prime."

Ratchet laughed outright, still holding the door. He covered his forehead with his other hand in a gesture Sparkplug used. Smiling like a ▒Con at a Minibot, he trailed his hand down to his chin. "You would not've listened to me before Optimus talked to you, now, would you? But here you are now, in my office. Are you ready to listen to what I have to say?"

Ironhide crossed his arms over his chest and dropped his chin, looking solemnly at the medic. "I'm listenin'."

"Damn right. D' you have any idea what you're doing to the sparkling? Any concept at all, 'Hide?" At Ironhide's blank look, he continued. "Did you even realize he was crushin' on you before I put Optimus up to talking to you? Did you?"

Ironhide nodded, the only sound he made was his servos whining.

"But here's the real problem, buddy: I don't think it's a crush any more. You've been letting him feel like he's getting to know you, sitting with him in the common room when you go down for energon, allowing him to hang out around your office when he's off duty, giving him just enough attention that he feels wanted but not so much that he feels like he's really getting closer to you." There was definitely an accusing tone creeping into the tirade, it wasn't just teasing or passing along information. "You are the only 'Bot he talks about. Fraggit! You're the only thing he talks about when he's not directly talking about work." Ratchet dropped both hands to his sides and paced past Ironhide into his office. "He's heard every story I'm willing to tell about you at least three times by now - he asks for them by title sometimes. Titles he gave them." He reached the back of the room and turned, mimicking Ironhide's pose with his arms across his windshield and his chin tilted down. "We were doing inventory a few days ago and I was worried about him because he was too quiet, like somethin' was botherin' him. It had been brewing for days. I got to talkin' about Cybertron, thinking that always draws out the youngsters. Sure enough, he found a question: he asked if Optimus was Prime back then. When I said yes and that it wasn't all that long ago for us, he started askin' me more questions. I thought, _'Thank Primus he's gettin' over 'Hide finally!'_, but I was wrong. He was curious about Optimus because he had worked out for himself that you and Optimus were together. You know how he is - he doesn't have secrets - he finally out and asked me, when the other one was out of range."

Ratchet stopped. Ironhide waited, knowing the story wasn't over.

Someone knocked on the door. "What?" Ratchet barked. The door opened just enough for a red-crested head to peek around it at Ratchet. Swoop didn't see Ironhide; he tried to fade into the shelving behind him, hoping the door blocked Swoop's view just enough in the cluttered room. "No, Swoop, I'll be out in a bit," Ratchet dismissed his student.

The Dinobot noticed Ironhide and his smile broadened. "Hi!" he chirped, optics twinkling. Then he ducked his head shyly and slipped behind the door, closing it again.

Silence returned. When Ratchet didn't get back to his tirade, Ironhide decided to offer intel he might not have. "That explains why he was scarce for a day. He seemed sad when he sat down in the waiting area one afternoon with his sketchpad, and just got more gloomy when I asked him what was wrong. He said he didn't want ta bother me. He was drawin' a picture of a semi on the highway and when I told him it was pretty good, he looked at me funny and left. Said he was late. I didn't think too much of it, really - he'd been moody for a week before that, but just as friendly and ..." He noticed Ratchet's expression had changed. "What?"

Ratchet's optic ridge twitched. He waved one hand encouragingly, "Nothing. Go on."

Ironhide was suspicious but couldn't imagine he was digging himself a hole. He straightened up a little and raised his chin slightly. "As I was sayin', he left sorta abruptly that day and I was kinda relieved 'cause him payin' me all that attention can't be healthy for 'im. But he came back the next day and finished it, happy again," here, Ironhide smiled but didn't realize it, " 'specially when I said it looked just like Prime and made Optimus take a break to look at it. Optimus made over it and asked if he could have it - youngster just about glowed..." Ironhide's face fairly snapped back to a dour expression. "What?!? Why're you lookin' at me like that, Ratch'?"

Ratchet did his best to blank his expression. "Me? I'm not looking at you like anything, 'Hide. D'you know why he was happier the next day?" Ironhide was grateful that Ratchet didn't force answers to rhetorical questions. "The same reason he didn't try to deny that he was drawing a picture that turned out to look like Optimus. He'd been jealous of Prime - that you spend so much time with him and obviously have a very special relationship with him - and I made him actually ask me if you were 'waxing' each other. Apparently that's the latest word for it around here, 'waxing'. I told him it was none of my business, and he looked hurt, then I told him that no, you and Optimus have just been friends for a very long time. And I made him tell me why he wanted to know. I wanted to find out what he thought he was doing." Ratchet paused, assessing Ironhide's reactions.

Ironhide thought his expression was dour. Ratchet found it expectant. Smirking, he chose his words to try to shock his friend. "He said he didn't care if the others were right and you are too ancient to remember what overload is, let alone survive one," he enjoyed the mixture of amusement and offense on his friend's face, "he'll cherish anything you're willing to share with him."

-X-X-X-

A few hours later, Ironhide told Prime about his visit to medical. "An' I have no idea how I got outta there without seein' 'im. I guess Ratchet had pity on me after I admitted he's important ta me and ran a block. None of 'em were in the main area when I walked out."

In Prime's office with the door closed, they could still hear the arrival of their artist. Softly, Optimus said, "Your friend's here. He's probably worried about you since you're not at your desk." Even more quietly, he continued, "Which way are you going to go?"

As quietly as Prime spoke, Ironhide replied, "Either way, I'm bound for the Pit! If I go with what I want, I'm takin' advantage; if I don't, I crush his spark."

Prime nodded. After that little speech, he felt he knew what his old friend would do. He stood up, speaking at his normal volume, that both of them knew carried easily through the door. "I think I'll close shop early today," he said, registering Ironhide's shocked expression as the van joined him in moving toward the door. "Why don't you do the same? It'll all be here tomorrow." Prime triggered the door, which slid aside, and he greeted the young 'Bot. "Good afternoon!" He gave Ironhide a little shove forward.

"Aakh! Afternoon, Prime," Swoop replied, smiling as he scrambled to his feet from where he'd settled in his usual chair to draw. "Hi, Ironhide."

Ironhide was suddenly uncertain. Prime shoved him again. "Er, yeah, good afternoon, Swoop," he stepped cautiously into his own office from Prime's. Prime was right behind him; he knew if he stopped again, he'd get pushed. "How 're you?"

Swoop tilted his head to one side. "Me Swoop well, thank you. This good day. How are you, Ironhide?"

"Well, thank ya," Ironhide returned the pleasantry, heading for his desk and the stack of datapads on it.

Prime would have none of that, though. He closed the door to his office and directed his attention to Swoop. "Swoop, I'm taking the rest of the day off, and Ironhide is, too, despite himself." Swoop looked curiously from the unreadable Autobot commander to Ironhide and back. "See to it that he gets away from his work for a while."

"Aye, Prime," Swoop agreed with a smile, watching Prime walk away. When his footsteps rounded a bend in the hall, the Dinobot turned back to his favorite 'Bot. "What that all about, Ironhide?"

Feeling railroaded but excited and nervous as a sparkling, Ironhide hedged. "Prime thinks we don't spend enough time outside, Swoop." He moved away from his desk which took him closer to both Swoop and the door. Suddenly, he realized he'd already decided. He held out one hand to the young mech. "Would you walk with me a while? I don't know where I'm goin', or how long I'll be at it, but it sure would be nice ta have you with me."

Swoop subspaced his art supplies and took Ironhide's hand gently in both of his much larger ones. As if he were making a vow, he said, "Me Swoop go with you Ironhide anywhere, as long as you Ironhide will have me Swoop."

Ironhide looked up into the blue optics and didn't think about the day Wheeljack powered them up for the first time. He didn't think about how similar they were to Chromia's, didn't think about how decrepit he might look to them one day. He thought only that there was affection radiating from them, and that he might never want to stop looking up into them.

The console on his desk chirped for attention. Swoop looked toward the sound, breaking the spell for Ironhide. Prime left a voice message: "Ironhide, if you're still there, leave. I'm heading back to make sure you're gone. Prime out."

"Oooh, me Swoop in trouble if you Ironhide still here when him Prime come back." Keeping hold of the red mech's hand - now that he had permission to touch Ironhide in other than a professional way, he wasn't about to let go! - Swoop started for the door.

Ironhide went with him, realizing he'd just lost the helm. Not sure what the Dino had in mind, Ironhide tried to keep the bigger mech's pace. Servos whined and one of his knees creaked. Swoop slowed a bit. "It's fine, Swoop, I'll keep up."

Swoop shook his crested head. "That problem: you Ironhide determined to keep up with others when others should adjust to you Ironhide. You Ironhide have earned it."

The old guard chuckled. "I don't know 'bout that," he demurred, feeling oddly flattered.

Swoop made what had to be his version of a dismissive sound. "Me Swoop know. You Ironhide fight Decepticons long time, make possible that 'Bots like us Dinobots got sparked." They hit the entrance to the Ark without seeing another mech.

Ironhide stopped abruptly, suddenly feeling his age and afraid Swoop felt some obligation to him. "You don't owe me a thing, Swoop! If that's what this is about, I have no business spendin' time with you at all!" He tried to extricate his hand from Swoop's.

Swoop stopped and looked down at him earnestly but did not let him go. "Me Swoop make you Ironhide understand! All Autobots owe each other. A lot. No doubt. Fight to keep each other alive. Fight to keep each other free. Fight for Autobots who've gone before, fight for 'Bots who haven't been sparked yet. 'Late models' owe 'classics' more." Unexpectedly, he knelt beside Ironhide so he could look up at him. "That not what this," he punctuated his meaning by drawing the now cooperative dark gray hand to his chestplate, over his spark chamber, "is about." He reached out his other hand and pulled the smaller 'Bot close, up to the near side of his chest so that Ironhide was between the yellow base of his Pteronadon top-knot and his shoulder. He let go of the hand over his spark-chamber and reached up to touch the side of the red helmet. Studying Ironhide's faceplates, he looked like he had more to say. Instead, he slowly drew Ironhide's head down toward his own, and off-lined his optics as he tentatively brushed their lip components together.

_I am goin' to the Pit fer this!_ lingered longest of all the thoughts in his CPU as, optics off, Ironhide let Swoop kiss him. It was chaste at first, a worshipper at an idol, but as he slid his arm further around 'Hide, Swoop turned his head slightly and parted his lips, tentatively brushing his glossa over their lips. Ironhide responded, wrapping one arm across the front of the Dinobot's chest and caressing his crest with the other hand. For the first time since reawakening, his engine purred for something other than a road trip.

A second engine sounded in his audios. Not associating the sound with Swoop, Ironhide broke the kiss and looked around. Jazz pulled up and transformed, covered in dust. Ironhide wished Primus would just take his spark and be done with it.

"Oh no!" Jazz laughed with a conspiratorial air, "Don't stop on my account! I saw nothin', I know nothin', I'm just headin' for the wash racks!" He passed behind Ironhide on his way to the entrance. Pitched to make it clear it was just for Ironhide's hearing, he added, "You go, 'Hide! It's about fraggin' time you took what he's been offerin'!" Then he was gone and they were alone again.

Swoop laughed and carefully rested his head against Ironhide's shoulder, crest pointed away from him.

"Does everyone know?"

"Damn near," Swoop confirmed, using Ratchet's phrase and tone. "Will, if we two don't move away from main entrance."

Ironhide gently released Swoop and backed a step from him, reaching for the light gray hand still touching his helm. As Swoop stood back up, Ironhide asked him, "Have we been courtin' all this time?"

Swoop laughed. "We two dance around each other. Me Swoop move closer, you Ironhide move farther away, but not really. Is that 'courting'?"

They walked slowly away from the Ark, just talking. Swoop had no intention of letting go of Ironhide's hand. True to his warning, Ironhide had no clear idea of where they were going, just 'away from the Ark'. They watched the sunset in companionable silence and walked back a little closer to each other.

-X-X-X-

The evening walk immediately became part of the ritual, a natural follower of Swoop's afternoon in Ironhide's office. It allowed Ironhide to carefully limit their contact to a few of those intense kisses of Swoop's and some lingering hugs watching the sun set and counting stars. The first stormy night, they decided to go to the common room instead. Both were disappointed in the lack of privacy, but neither said so. One of the Jurassic Park movies was playing; the other Dinobots were among the mechs watching it.

Ironhide tried not to take it as a bad omen at first glance. Swoop had told him that Grimlock absolutely did not like the idea of any of the Dinobots getting closely attached to another Autobot. Sludge quietly disagreed with Grimlock, happy that Swoop was happy in Ironhide's company. Slag and Snarl did not notice or care.

Beachcomber and First Aid were playing one of the simpler card games - War, maybe - and it looked like First Aid was losing as Ironhide and Swoop moseyed into the room. He looked up and grinned. "Heya, Swoop!" Then with a nod, "Ironhide. You two interested in a game? Ironhide and 'Comber versus me and Swoop?" He had an eager look. Spike had found them a novelty deck of human playing cards that was nearly appropriately Autobot-sized; he recruited Bumblebee and then taught the few who cared to learn every card game he knew. Ironhide found he enjoyed playing Euchre, as long as Prowl was not in the game. Even as his partner, Prowl was just annoying: he could deduce nearly everything everyone else held about halfway into each hand.

Beachcomber chuckled. Swoop squawked agreeably. Ironhide took in his young friend's grin and could only agree: anything that made Swoop happy was fine. He resolved not to be worried that Grimlock seemed to watch them. Beachcomber moved over, scooping up the rest of the cards from First Aid, and they settled down to play.

It was 7-4 when the tyrannosaurus in the movie was killed by the super-dinosaur. Grimlock roared along with him, sounding particularly dangerous.

All eyes on him, he stood up. The non-Dinobots watching the movie shrank back in their seats a little. "Not even other dinosaurs respect T-rex!" he bellowed. Slag snickered. Everyone else was quiet. Humans in the movie went on about their business. Arms crossed stiffly, Grimlock stalked over to the card-players' table and stood over Beachcomber and First Aid. He glowered down at Swoop. "Me Grimlock accept you Swoop want to be medic like him Ratchet. Good for Dinobots, have own mechanic someday. Help us Dinobots be independent." Optics flashing angrily, he leveled a finger at Swoop, nearly taking First Aid's head off, he moved his arm so violently. "Me Grimlock tell you Swoop not to seek out him Ironhide. Order. No good for discipline. Spend too much time with Autobots, away from Dinobots." He refolded his arms and finished his tirade. "You Swoop want to spend time with Autobots, be like Autobots. Fine. No longer welcome with us Dinobots; you Swoop Dinobot no more." Turning, he said, "Dinobots, come with me Grimlock!" and turned on his massive heel and stomped out.

Confused expressions on their faces, Sludge and Slag got up to follow him. Snarl sat tight. Sludge paused to look at Snarl. "Me Snarl follow order after movie over," and turned back to the screen.

Slag was already out the door, Sludge started to follow him, then paused again to look to Swoop. "You Swoop still look like Dinobot. What did him Grimlock mean?"

The room was quiet except for the TV. First Aid laughed nervously and tried to smooth things over, "Grimlock's just mad. Sounds like he thinks no one cares, no one listens to him. Hot Spot has days like that sometimes. He's right, when he says stupid things. He's never tried to throw one of us out, though..." He trailed off, realizing he wasn't really helping.

Snarl made a derisive sound, true to his name. He turned off the TV and stalked over to Sludge. "We three go keep him Grimlock from getting all Dinobots in trouble again." Sludge nodded; Snarl continued on his way out.

Sludge turned back to Swoop who seemed to have taken Snarl's statement to include him and started to stand. Sludge scowled and shook his head, "No. Me Sludge sure him Snarl not count you Swoop. You Swoop find someplace else to be. Me Sludge find you Swoop when this blow over." Swoop nodded his crested head and Sludge followed their brothers, presumably to do whatever was needed to placate Grimlock.

Swoop slouched in his seat. Someone turned the TV back on. Noise returned to its normal level.

The game resumed but Swoop was distracted. Ironhide and Beachcomber finished the younger pair off, 10-4. Beachcomber and First Aid made some excuse and wandered off. Ironhide glanced around the room to verify no one was really paying them any mind. He set his hand on the back of Swoop's reassuringly. "Let me fetch us some energon." As he stood up to follow through, Swoop looked up at him.

The Dinobot turned his hand quickly and caught Ironhide in a firm grip. With an air of desperation, he said quietly, "You Ironhide not leave me Swoop, too?"

Returning the grip and patting the blue shoulder with his other hand, he shook his head. "No, Swoop. Let's get some fuel and we'll figure out where you can stay." Conscious of the possible listeners, he didn't offer more right then. Ironhide specifically filled cubes with only the sustenance-grade energon: there was something he wanted to say and he needed to be certain Swoop's answer was sober. He just couldn't find a way to make the offer he knew should be made. They sat in silence, pretending interest in the movie. It ended and the few who'd truly stayed to watch it left. They were alone in the large room. Finally, he blurted out what he was thinking: "Swoop, there's plenty o' room in my quarters. If you want, you can have the berth and I'll recharge on the floor. I'd enjoy havin' you around?" It came out as a question.

Swoop looked at him, gloomy expression changing to something Ironhide couldn't read. "Not have to let me Swoop stay with you Ironhide."

Puzzled, Ironhide again reached for Swoop's large hand. He put on what he hoped was his most earnest expression. "No, but I'd like for you to." When Swoop's expression didn't change, he continued. "Nothin' has to happen b'tween us or anythin'. Yer welcome ta stay as long as ya want." Now uncertain himself, he started to ramble a bit, "Ah-I can stay in m' office if that's -" but he didn't finish the sentence, distracted by Swoop's sudden coy smile.

The Dinobot looked away, then back at him, "Lead way."

-X-X-X-

In Ironhide's room, Swoop stopped just inside the doors to look around. Ironhide thought he could read Swoop's expression again; it reminded him to be nervous. He busied himself tidying up the tools and pieces of damaged weapons he'd left laying around. When Swoop continued to stand still, he felt compelled to fill the silence. "I, ah, told ya about my hobby, right? I'm rebuildin' this rifle for Optimus."

Swoop smiled that coy smile again - not that Ironhide could see it, he was distracting himself from the Dinobot's presence, putting things away on a shelf - and walked slowly to where Ironhide stood. "Me Swoop not imagining this; this room belong to you Ironhide. You Ironhide invited me Swoop, invited to stay," Swoop hugged him from behind, hands draped down over his windshield. The ridge of Ironhide's helmet just touched the yellow protrusion at the centerline of Swoop's chest. Ironhide's engine purred softly. Swoop made an appreciative sound. "When him Grimlock get over being mad, me Swoop have to thank him Grimlock for this."

Ironhide reached for both of the light gray hands slowly tracing the seal of his windshield. Cycling air carefully, he asked, "Have you ever... Have you ever 'waxed' another before?" hoping he was using the younger mechs' word correctly.

Confidingly, Swoop answered, "Just kiss. Play a little. Realized wanted you Ironhide and stopped playing with special friend." He paused and held more tightly to the boxy mech, "Have not reached overload in this lifetime."

Ironhide's engine revved just a little faster. He almost asked about the 'special friend' but decided Swoop would tell him if he wanted to. "I've never ... waxed ... another mech, or a 'Bot bigger than me before," Ironhide mused. He patted the light hands on his chest then turned slowly around to look up at Swoop. "I haven't ... spent that kind of time with anyone in ... your lifetime, at least."

Swoop knelt slowly and drew the red fighter to him as he had on their first evening outing. Ironhide fondly touched the ridge of Swoop's Pteronadon beak that forced them to not meet centerline to centerline. "Feels good," Swoop said quietly. Swoop's hands wandered. On impulse, Ironhide pressed more tightly to the Pteronadon and tentatively touched the edge of his wing. Swoop shivered and his optics flickered. Head tilted just so, lips parted, he looked both more innocent and more inviting. He trembled as Ironhide increased the pressure on his chest and his wing, gently stroking both and watching the young 'Bot's face. "Ooooh," he breathed.

"I am goin' to the Pit fer this," Ironhide said aloud, then leaned forward to claim those smooth metal lips with his own.

Sometime later, they lay down on the floor because it was easier than staying where they were or moving to the berth. Ironhide carefully mapped out the large colorful body with his hands and his mouth, noting every sensitive seam and ticklish plate. Swoop nearly surprised him into overcharge, but Ironhide stalwartly refrained, knowing that one time in the encounter would be his limit, and he preferred to find Swoop's first. _If anyone's goin' without tonight, it's me,_ he resolved, _as young as he is, he'll probably need four to even make him tired!_

Swoop's first overload came up on him slowly. Ironhide was kissing his face softly and stroking his crest with one hand while Swoop explored the van's hood. Then Swoop lost track of everything for a moment when Ironhide's other hand spanned a group of wires inside a transformation seam in his beak. Electricity crackled through those lines, out into his chest, all through his plating. His field did things he didn't understand completely and he cried out, arching against the smaller 'Bot. He thrashed a little in pleasure-distress-want. "'Hide! Need...!" but he didn't know what it was he felt he needed so badly. Ironhide tucked down closer to his neck and ... nipped him ... as he repeated the stimulation of the lines in his chest. Waves of energy washed through him as the connection was made over and over. "Ooooooh!" he exclaimed as every one of his systems hit alarm levels and he reached overcharge for the first time.

Ironhide soothed the spot on Swoop's neck with delicate kisses and extricated his hand. He cycled his cooling system as fast as he could without increasing the sound of it. _Primus let me hold out for him!_ passed his CPU. He stood up slowly and dimmed the lights, then lay back down with Swoop on the floor.

Swoop wasn't out for long. He shuddered as he regained awareness. When he saw Ironhide looking at him, he almost cried out. "That was ... Not dreaming ... You Ironhide did ..."

He looked so sweet, so grateful, so needy in that moment when he couldn't finish a sentence, Ironhide felt compelled to reassure him. "Sshh," he whispered, leaning over Swoop to kiss him. Mouths moving together, Ironhide brought his knees up so he was crouching beside Swoop on the deckplates.

Again Swoop lost track of what Ironhide was doing - whatever it was it felt good, starting from where his wing attached to his torso. Ironhide's engine revved and Swoop arched against him, trying to get more of their skin in contact so he could feel that delicious vibration more completely. His hands on 'Hide's waist just wasn't enough contact.

Abruptly, Ironhide left off kissing him and held very still, forehead resting against Swoop's cheek. "Give me a moment, darlin'," he breathed, "Ah-I'm not ready for this to be over yet."

Not really understanding, Swoop made a small sound of protest and moved his hands curiously along the seams of Ironhide's hips.

"Sshh, darlin', lie still a spell. Let this ol' 'Bot regroup 'fore you send him off-line."

Confused, Swoop complied but asked what he meant: "But, overload good? Send 'Hide off-line like 'Hide send Swoop off-line?"

Ironhide chuckled softly and sat up a little so he could make optic contact with Swoop. "Yes, it is good but I'm not gonna recover anythin' like as fast as you. When I go off-line, I'll need to recharge completely. I figure you'll need a few more rounds 'fore you're able to feel satisfied with this experience." He paused to cycle more air and purposely tone down his engine. "And I want you to be glad you chose me for your first time."

"But 'Hide! Me Swoop already glad! That not fair," Swoop traced the seams on the gray hips, "not fair for you 'Hide to wait for one while giving me Swoop many."

Ironhide moaned as Swoop found his interface port. Swoop reached up and gently maneuvered Ironhide's head so they could kiss again. Whatever he was going to say in response to Swoop's protest was forgotten. His resolve faltered and the cover of his interface port slid aside. Swoop was in control of the encounter now. He shuddered and stroked the wing under his fingertips. Distantly, he heard the faint sound of Swoop's interface coverplate opening. As he processed the sound, he stiffened in surprise.

Swoop noticed. "You Ironhide not want? Me Swoop can share energy this way, right?" he sounded so innocent as he offered the second most intimate act among mechs.

"Yes, darlin', we can share energy that way, and I would love to feel you plug inta me, but... Swoop, compared to that, what we've been doin' is ... like that first kiss you gave yer special friend." He held very still. "We don't have to do that."

Swoop slowly sat up, not letting go of him. Somehow, he came to be sitting up in front of the red mech, legs loosely surrounding him, torso turned so that Ironhide could lean against the center bulge of his chest. Swoop caressed his interface port, then tentatively drew 'Hide's hands to his own waist. Hesitantly, he said, "Touch me Swoop. Want... Plug in-into you 'Hide."

Shaking, Ironhide could only oblige him, gently tracing the orifice with the pads of his fingers. Tentatively his fingers passed the plane of Swoop's plating and stroked the cable inside. Fondling it cautiously, he pulled it slowly out of the housing. Swoop stopped moving. Ironhide held very still and looked up into his face, "Should I stop?"

"No!" Swoop exclaimed in his birdlike way. Ironhide winced at the sound. Less piercingly, he said, "Please don't stop. Want to share everything!"

When Ironhide didn't resume movement right away, Swoop decided to help him. He wrapped one large hand around Ironhide's smaller one that held his interface cable so gently and guided it to Ironhide's interface port. Unsure of exactly how to line them up, he paused. Ironhide's processor unstuck and he took over the last few millimeters. Optic contact never wavering, he said, "I want to share everythin', too, darlin'," then made the connection.

-X-X-X-

It was still early enough when they returned to conscious function that no one was looking for either of them yet. Ratchet was already working when they got to the repair bay. He took one look at them and said, "Fraggit, Ironhide! Wha-"

Swoop cut Ratchet off, which shocked him into silence briefly. "Me Swoop made second connection. Couldn't stop feedback; didn't stop when broke connections."

Ratchet glowered and turned back to Ironhide. "Fraggit! You knew better. What do you expect me to do about it?"

"Make it stop? Or make it bearable if it can't be stopped." Ironhide was too exhausted to stand anymore but Swoop held him upright against his side long enough to get him to a repair table. Once Ironhide was safely on the table, Swoop knelt beside him, drooping. Ironhide stroked the side of his crest.

"No. One ported connection, fine. But two... Two! What were you thinking?" Then he laughed. "Oh! I think I see it now. You had only ever been with the femmes before, who generally deny having an interface cable," at Ironhide's expression, Ratchet smirked. "Didn't know that about Chromia, did you? And you didn't connect the technical descriptions to what you were doing, did you, Swoop? 'Resonant Signature Bleed-through' is what you've got. It will diminish; it doesn't explain why you both look like you've run around the planet."

The room was silent except for the cycling of the systems in two exhausted mechs.

Ratchet wasn't going to let them off the hook easily. Ironhide's optics were off and Swoop looked likely to fall over as he started an energon transfusion for his partner. Frowning, Ratchet moved to intervene. "Here, let me take care of that," he said as he took the line from Swoop's shaking hand and started the flow for the red 'Bot himself. "You can take in energon the normal way. Get yourself down to the galley and fuel up. I want to have a talk with Ironhide."

Swoop made a sound of protest. "That's an order, Swoop. Get out, get fuel, come back for your normal training shift." With a lingering look at Ironhide as he stood up, Swoop gathered himself and left, posture indicating reluctance.

Ratchet looked down at his patient, running the habitual system scans as he spoke. "I know you're on-line, your cooling system cycles louder when you're not. I expected you to be out of commission for a while if you ever indulged Swoop's daydreams, but why is he nearly as bad off as you? Even a dual connection doesn't cause a drain."

"Swoop. He actively sent energy across the connection, thinkin' to ... I don't know what. I was already overchargin' so I had to let it flow back to 'im. That pushed 'im back into overload but the connection was still there so he let it flow on back ta me. We were... It was..." Ironhide paused, realizing he wasn't getting anywhere. He on-lined his optics to look at Ratchet and was surprised that his long-time friend didn't look angry, just concerned. He gathered himself. "I can't describe it, Ratch'. We didn't want it to end but our systems could only take so much before everythin' shut down in self-defense. When we were able to disengage, the sense of energy feedback didn't stop. Now that he's not right beside me, it's more bearable, and since my actual energy level is comin' back up it's even pleasant again." He glanced from the medic to the lifeline and back. "Thank you for allowin' the infusion." He paused and shook his head, "We were concerned that the feedback didn't stop when we disconnected."

"Sounds like you made some kind of field connection," Ratchet said thoughtfully. "I've heard of such a thing, more - hmmmm, intense - than resonant signature bleed-through." He was searching his medical database, scowling, but not at Ironhide, at the internal effort to access entries never used. Louder: "Primus! I don't even have that part of the file anymore." He looked back at Ironhide on the repair table, who was getting visibly more energetic as the energon flowed into his systems. His face perfectly serious, he said, "Ironhide, I'll do some research and get back to you." He disconnected the line and stepped away from the table, no longer looking at Ironhide. "You don't look like you've done any major harm. Your internal repair system seems to have the stress to your cooling system under control. Go on down to the common room and grab some energon the usual way. Take it easy. You can play Optimus' yeoman today but don't -" he looked pointedly at Ironhide as the red one levered himself upright, "do not - go on any sort of expedition. I don't care if Megatron himself is involved, you send someone in your place." He looked away again, tidying something up, "I'll do some research and get back to you."

Moderately alarmed at Ratchet's uncharacteristic repetition, Ironhide stood up and took hold of Ratchet's upper arm to make him look back at him. "Ratchet, have I done anything that might harm Swoop?"

Eye to eye with him, Ratchet smiled tightly. "From all accounts, Swoop did it. And I don't know for sure or I'd damn well tell you. Let me check some things out. I haven't heard of anyone making a permanent field-bond in ... well, ever. Not in my lifetime. It's something that was done commonly, early in the war, mostly by mechs who worked so closely together they needed to be able to communicate at the speed of their processors without making a physical or radio link. Two 'Bots could go into enemy territory and communicate without any chance of that communication being detected by the Decepticons. It's sorta like what the gestalt members do when they merge, but if you've done what I think you've done..." He shook his head, looking exasperated, "Let me check into it before I run my vocalizer and maybe get you all spun-up for nothing."

Ironhide let him go, processor racing. He'd heard stories of what happened to some of those teams, how helpful a field-bond could be, and how debilitating to the one remaining if the other was killed. He stood in the repair bay, CPU stuck in a loop of excitement, recrimination, unease, and guilt. He'd spent so much time in the last several weeks with Swoop, listening to him when he felt like talking, telling him stories and bits about himself when he didn't, he'd developed a deep affection for the Dinobot. Part of his protest to Optimus and Ratchet had been to try to convince himself that he couldn't, shouldn't, didn't feel anything special for Swoop, think too often about him, or treasure the visits to his office, the rapt attention, the companionship. But he did. And he continued to. Processing Ratchet's suspicion, Ironhide wondered if the certainty that Swoop was thinking about him as he slugged energon in the galley was imagination or knowledge. He off-lined his optics to focus on blanking his processors, 'watching' them for activity or readings that were not in his immediate environment. The effort was no good, even before Ratchet spoke up: he just couldn't stop actively replaying the events of the last several hours.

"Fraggit! I know you heard me, Ironhide! Get on down to the common room to top up your systems and go about your business. I'll call you when I figure this out." Ratchet stalked off to his office in back and closed the door.

"What have I done?" he drawled slowly to himself, finally getting motivated to leave the room.

-X-X-X-

Optimus thought he showed great restraint in not demanding that his friend tell him anything. Concerned that all he got when he tried to start a conversation with, "I heard about Grimlock's performance last night; how did Swoop take it?" was a purposeful "I'm not ready to talk about it," he dropped it completely. Ironhide seemed withdrawn, as if he were running on auto-pilot all day. Optimus assumed that Ironhide had either tried to let Swoop down easy or they had gotten up to something that hadn't gone well and, either way, their sketch artist wouldn't be occupying one of the otherwise little-used chairs in Ironhide's office. He didn't know what to make of it when Swoop made his usual late afternoon appearance, demeanor as reserved as Ironhide's.

While having a discussion with Prowl about tactics and the probability of success of each of the options in a given scenario, Optimus heard Ratchet's voice through the closed door of his office. "-come with me. Both of you."

Ironhide sent him a text message on his console: _Going to repair bay; Ratchet's orders._ He returned to his present task, tedious as he found it, and they agreed that providing security for the launch-at-sea of a weather satellite could not be handled solely by Seaspray and Skyfire.

When Prowl finally left, Optimus walked out with him. Ironhide had not returned so he took himself down to medical to look for him. When he got there, only First Aid was visible. "Good afternoon, Prime," the Protectobot greeted him, "What can I do for you?"

"Good Afternoon, First Aid. I'm looking for Ironhide or Ratchet. Is either of them around?"

First Aid looked toward the closed door of Ratchet's office. "Ratchet's got Ironhide in his office." He didn't offer any further information.

Optimus waited long enough to be sure the young medic was not going to continue. "And? Is something wrong? Is Swoop with them?"

First Aid looked abashed but didn't answer immediately. "Prime," he began.

He didn't continue. The door to Ratchet's office opened and all three mechs came out. Swoop and Ironhide headed for the exit, their body language reading differently than before despite the fact that they walked at the same distance from each other as ever. Ratchet saw Prime and stopped short. "Optimus, we need to talk." Before Prime could say anything to Ironhide, the tone of Ratchet's statement struck him and garnered his full attention. Ironhide and Swoop were gone and Ratchet was holding the door to his office open. "Please, step into my office." He did as the CMO bade. Once he passed the door, Ratchet said to First Aid, "If anyone else comes in today, 'Aid, you handle it. I'm only here if someone is in multiple pieces."

On First Aid's affirmative, Ratchet closed the door. "Now," he said, "I have seen everything."

Optimus waited, trusting Ratchet to explain.

"We have a completely inadvertent, fortunately fully compatible field-bond in our ranks now." Ratchet paused to assess his Prime's reaction to this. It was non-existent. "Strays the processor a bit, doesn't it? Swoop should have known better, having studied the various levels of field resonance, but he did it anyway. Primus! Ironhide should have known better, being aware when field-bonds were common and knowing why they passed out of usage." Ratchet shook his head. "Doesn't mean he knew how they were initiated, though. Just like Swoop's studies didn't really let him know the personal consequences. He just wanted to share energy with Ironhide, he said."

Optimus was still processing Ratchet's first sentence. "Field bond? Isn't that like what the gestalts have?"

Ratchet smiled tightly. "In providing instantaneous communication, yes. The biggest documented difference is the logistics: where gestalt teams only experience it when they are physically merged, the field-bonded duo will experience it when they are physically close. The Ark doesn't provide enough space for them to stop hearing each other; Oregon state probably doesn't provide enough space. It looks like Ironhide's stable enough to ground Swoop and Swoop bolsters Ironhide's energy levels. I'll have to upgrade 'Hide's cooling system whether he wants me to or not, but we'll handle that when he realizes why I told him he needs it. He protested, of course. Learning the hard way won't do him any lasting harm."

"What does it mean?"

"That's up to them. They're both smart enough to work something out." Ratchet moved one shoulder in an approximation of a shrug. To Prime's disappointment, he didn't have much to add.

He found he didn't have enough information to form probing questions, so he asked Ratchet to prepare a full technical report on field-bonds for the next day and left Ratchet in his office. The repair bay was empty as his processor. Of course, as soon as he was in sight of the door to the office suite he shared with Ironhide a good one came to him: _what is the significance of being 'fully-compatible'?_

Ironhide looked up from his desk when the door was keyed open. He wore a more relaxed expression than Prime would have thought possible given Ratchet's news. Rather than a greeting, Prime uttered the question that was tying up his processor: "What did Ratchet mean when he said you two have a fully-compatible field bond?"

The door cycled shut behind Prime. Ironhide lowered his head as if to study something on the surface of his desk and rubbed the back of his neck with one hand before looking up at Prime from under his optic ridge, head still bowed in that characteristic way. "I-ah haven't got a good grasp on that yet, myself, Optimus," he drawled, "but Swoop seems pleased." He paused as if listening, then continued, dropping his arm, "He says it means a lot o' things. It means we have similar enough processor speeds and buffer capacities to maintain nominal function - neither of us'll be hindered by the other. It means we get along well enough - " Prime made an amused sound and Ironhide paused and straightened up to give his friend a frank look. Prime made an apologetic gesture and Ironhide continued, "- we, well, we get along well enough. Ratch's not worried one of us will try to deactivate the other to get some peace. Apparently that happened in a few cases. It means we have similar tolerances for error, similar patience," he paused again, "and the ability to cope with uncertainty - neither of us is likely to put the other into processor-lock."

"I'm having trouble imagining Swoop saying all that," Prime mused as he settled in one of the chairs across from Ironhide - Swoop's chair, he'd come to think of it. "Tell me clearly, Ironhide, when you look like you stopped to listen just now, were you?" Ironhide had already made an affirmative gesture. Prime continued without missing a beat, "Did he really explain all of that?"

"Aye, more even," Ironhide looked down again and repeated the gesture with his hand on the back of his neck. Prime realized he was unconsciously hiding a bit behind his elbow when he did that. "Things I, ah, don't think you wanna know an' I know I don't wanna say." The smile on his faceplates was enough for Prime.

Prime rested his elbows on the desk and leaned forward, earnestly meeting his friend's optics. "You seem to be handling this well. Are you? Are you both?"

Ironhide's smile broadened a bit. He nodded, "Yeah, Optimus, we are. Better than 'well', I'd say."

Prime nodded in satisfaction and stood up. "If you need anything, old friend, even if it's just some quiet away from the Ark, don't hesitate to ask." He headed for his own office.

Ironhide stopped him with a word, "Grimlock." At the quizzical look behind the battlemask, Ironhide explained flatly: "I expect trouble with Grimlock. When he orders Swoop to move back in with the Dinobots, can you claim some priority of resource allocation to countermand it?"

Prime smiled. "Yes, but I don't have to. Swoop, like all Autobots, can spend his free time anywhere he's welcome." His expression became serious, "I expect him to drill with the Dinobots as Grimlock may dictate as unit commander, but when he's off-duty, he's a free mech. He can even recharge anywhere he's comfortable. Does he already consider himself moved out of the Dinobots' hall?"

"They tossed his personal effects out in the hallway last night, amazin'ly mostly intact." Ironhide got that listening look again, "First Aid's helping him trade out my berth for his. 'Aid put his brothers up to distracting the other Dinobots for a while. Apparently there's a poorly-matched football game in progress." They made eye contact.

"Better warn Ratchet," they said in stereo.


	2. Just Call Me

Title: _Just Call Me_

Universe: loosely G1 cartoon, with one particular idea pilfered from the UK comics. Sequel to _What You're Not Doing_

Rated: R for physical intimacy between mechanical beings.

Pairing: Ironhide/Swoop, established.

Warning: it started off silly - _Is that the definition of 'fluff'?_ - because Swoop got wrapped up in a song - _Does that make it a song-fic?_ - but there is a continuation of plot(s). The singer is Juice Newton.

Author's Note: Oh, I do wish they were all mine! Starrunner is my creature, but has only a cameo in this story. 5550 words.

* * *

It was a fluke that Swoop heard the tidbit of song. He and the other Dinobots were returning home from a training evolution off the coast of Australia and flew very low in the night on their approach to the Ark. Someone was driving on the remote roads through the wilderness with the radio cranked. He triggered his auto-recorder as soon as he registered what sounded like an endearment Ironhide used, with about the same tone and accent. It gave him a pang of loneliness: he'd been missing Ironhide's presence for three days since Prime took his bodyguard with him to check on the New York contingent. _...touch my cheek before you leave me...darlin'...just call me angel..._ was all he caught. He was very curious to hear the rest of the song. 

The next morning before reporting to Ratchet for his training session, he stopped by the comm center to see Blaster. If anybody could find a piece of music based on a lyric, it was him. Seaspray was on console but Blaster was there with him anyway: Swoop was in luck.

Except that Blaster had not forgiven the Dinobots their existence yet. Swoop greeted him happily and exchanged pleasantries with Seaspray while Blaster busied himself with another console.

"Sso, Sswoop, how did you find Austrralia? Werrre you able to ssee the corral sspawn?" Seaspray asked, always ready to discuss ocean life.

"No, not allowed near reef. Too many tourists," Swoop replied. "And him Grimlock had specific schedule to keep." His face fell in disappointment as Blaster walked out despite Swoop trying to speak with him, "Blaster?"

The Minibot noticed. "Sswoop, don't take it perrsonally," he offered, "He iss just angrry that Prrowl denied hiss rrrequest to build cassette-botss with ssome of the ssparrkss in sstasiss. He barrely tolerratess me and Cosmoss. Can I help you instead?"

Swoop was uncertain but explained what he was hoping to ask of Blaster, even playing the snippet for Seaspray. "Me Swoop rarely listen to music, but this interesting."

Seaspray was not one to pry even though he found the situation implausible. "To each hiss own. I can't perrsonally help you with thiss. Have you thought about asking Jazz?"

"No!" Swoop brightened, "Will do that. Thank you Seaspray," he chirped, then excused himself to go join Ratchet in the repair bay.

-X-X-X-

When he left later that day, still at a loss for what to do with himself in his spare time while Ironhide was away, he ran into Jazz in the corridor.

"Heya, Swoop!" Jazz hailed him, "Seaspray said you wanted ta talk ta me?" He tried not to make it obvious, but he'd been watching the monitors in the comm center for Swoop to leave medical, full of curiosity since Seaspray came looking for him after turnover.

"Aaawk! Aye," Swoop replied, perking up a bit. "Me Swoop catch bit of song last night, need help to find rest. Will you Jazz help?"

"Lay it on me, m'man."

Swoop actually looked both ways in the corridor before answering, "Not here."

"Whoa-ho!" Jazz exclaimed, walking along with Swoop good-naturedly as the Dinobot led him down the hall. "What's that for, Swoop?" His normal smile widened as he teased, "Is there somethin' risque 'bout your song?"

Swoop shyly returned his smile, shaking his head. "No, not think so. Me Swoop just not want many know. Him Grimlock never let me Swoop live this down." Passing the entrance of the common room, Swoop saw that only Starrunner and Bumblebee were there and decided to duck inside, silently greeting them as he sat down. Both 'Bots smiled and went directly back to their private conversation.

Normally mid-afternoon saw the Ark common room empty. The busy times were immediately before and after shift-changes. At noon and midnight the 12-hour duty cycles had turn-over; those considered day-shift generally worked from 0600 to 1800. Outside of those times, the room was used whenever more than a few needed to meet, and every evening during what passed for time to socialize. Of course any of them could tune into nearly any human transmission he wanted, but part of adapting to the cycles of the planet was recharging every night and winding down during so-called 'prime time'. Autobot culture was gregarious: many 'Bots spent the evening hours there when not on duty. The television was constantly on at low volume, it let them feel connected to the larger world without having to tie up their individual receivers.

Those there during the off-times minded their own business, vocalizing below the decibel level set for CNN.

Jazz mimicked Swoop's attitude and slipped into a seat across from him in the corner by the door, out of the camera view. Conspiratorially, he leaned his elbows on the table and said in a low tone, "Spill it Swoop."

"Me Swoop hear music last night from someone out driving. Caught only a few seconds. Would you Jazz find whole song?"

"Of course I will. And I'll do ya one better: I'll show ya how ta use the internet ta find songs. All ya need's a few of the lyrics."

Jazz kept his best helpful expression as Swoop played the brief recording for him. The high, twangy voice was not something he found pleasant, himself, but there was a sweetness to it. Swoop had listened to it enough, he had worked out how to spell (and appropriately misspell) each of the words picked up by his auto-record function. Something about it nagged at Jazz. He thought it should be obvious why it got Swoop's attention but couldn't get a lock on it. The tune was not something he'd have believed a mech might appreciate (except for maybe Warpath, but his circuits didn't run on full voltage). No problem, he could do as Swoop wished. He started to get up, "All right. We'll get it quick. Let's just go snag a terminal an-"

Swoop interrupted him, looking nervous. "Naawk! Not in the comm center!"

That was not an expression he was used to seeing on a Dinobot. He sat back down and tried to reassure the younger mech, "It's okay, man, I don't hafta play it again to type it in. We got enough o' the lyrics, I bet we can get it. No problem."

"Does him Prime lock office when out?"

Jazz smiled mischievously. If they set foot in there, it wouldn't be two ticks before Smokescreen noticed. Knowing him, he'd ring the XO, right across the corridor, to investigate. Jazz' afternoon just got more entertaining! "Yeah, Swoop, but that's not a problem." He dropped his volume to ensure only Swoop would hear, "There's not a door that can keep me out."

Swoop smiled shyly. "We two go now?"

"Yeah," Jazz said, standing up to lead the big 'Bot out. "Wait at the last intersection until you see me go in the door, then follow quick. If somebody comes up, make nice with him loud enough for me ta hear, okay?"

"Aye!" Swoop responded happily.

-X-X-X-

Prowl found himself wishing Prime would make rounds of the other Autobot facilities more often. In four days since Prime and Ironhide left aboard Skyfire, Prowl had completely cleared his backlog of reports to edit and logs to approve. He almost lamented they would be back tomorrow. His console chirped for attention: the 'Bot on comm duty was ringing him. "Prowl here," he answered, opening up a window and turning on the camera to converse with Smokescreen.

"Prowl, Jazz just overrode the door to Prime's office. He has Swoop with him." Smokescreen looked like he couldn't decide which was worse: dealing with the weirdness of Jazz in the company of a Dinobot breaking and entering himself, or conversing with the XO. "I'm sure they have a good reason," he rationalized.

Prowl kept his face impassive, thinking that Jazz never ceased to surprise him. "Swoop probably left something on Ironhide's desk. He should have asked someone on security staff to let him in. Any of us would understand." He shook his head slightly. "They are right across the corridor. I will see what they are doing."

"Thank you."

Prowl cut the connection and left his office. He had no doubt Swoop left something in the vicinity of Ironhide's desk. He keyed the door open without a second thought.

His audio receptors were assaulted by a human voice: _...just touch my cheek before you leave me. Da-arli-in'!_

Jazz was sitting at Ironhide's console, Swoop leaning on the back of the chair. The music was coming through the little speakers, apparently at full volume. Swoop's face was rapturous, optics dim, just listening. Jazz heard the door cycle and was looking at Prowl, grinning just as Prowl expected him to be. "And that's how you download music from the internet!" Jazz said triumphantly when it ended.

Prowl stood there, stoically expressionless. He crossed his arms over his chest.

Swoop on-lined his optics. His serene expression was replaced by a scandalized one when he saw Prowl. He squawked and dropped his optics to the floor, looking ready to grovel if he had to.

Prowl held up a staying hand. Processing that last word, that sounded like 'darling' with an accent like Ironhide's, the scene made perfect sense. Swoop did not need to know that Prowl understood, though. "I do not want to know what that was. Do not play it in my hearing again, Swoop. In future, if you need something from this office when Ironhide is away, come to someone with authorization to be in here: Wheeljack, Mirage, or me." He shifted his gaze pointedly to Jazz, "Just because Jazz is able to enter any room he wants does not mean he has leave to do so." How the saboteur managed to look so smug, yet so very innocent, Prowl could only wonder.

-X-X-X-

Swoop had no idea how to read the situation. Jazz had acted like they were doing something naughty by overriding the lock and letting themselves in to use Ironhide's console, and Prowl confirmed that by looking ready to discipline them, but the atmosphere was all wrong. Amused, somehow.

Jazz pulled a data chit from its port on the console and handed it to Swoop. It looked even more tiny in the Dinobot's large hand. "Here ya go, Swoop!"

Swoop accepted the chit and closed his hand around it gently. "Thank you, Jazz," he said softly, body language uncertain. Should he match his demeanor to Jazz, who was jaunty and relaxed as ever, or to Prowl, who was the perfect picture of offended authority to be balanced by a contrite offender?

Prowl stepped out of the way to the door, triggering it open. "Go, Swoop," he directed. Still confused, but happy that he seemed to be spared punishment, even a lecture, he did leave. The door cycled shut behind him. He'd have to thank Jazz again, later.

Swoop popped the chit into one of his data ports, letting his first favorite song wash through his processor. He wandered down to the common room, not interested in going to his room. Ironhide's room without Ironhide in it was just empty space, in the same way the quiet of his own mind without the sense of Ironhide in the background was just silence. It had not taken them long to make sense out of the energy feedback once Ratchet explained to them what they had done. Knowing why it was there made the pink noise in their processors tolerable. Being able to resolve it into sensible communication made it unbelievable, above and beyond anything either of them could have imagined. When his bond mate was in range, Swoop preferred silence in his audios because it allowed him to more easily 'hear' Ironhide's activity as the background to his own experiences. He was already accustomed to his partner's presence at the edge of his awareness, to be pulled to the fore at a thought. The times of separation were troubling.

He hadn't learned yet how to pass the down-time when Ironhide was away. It wasn't so bad when drilling with the other Dinobots: drills were like working with Ratchet, they occupied his full attention, leaving little time to miss the buzz of activity that was out of range. If he sat down to draw, whatever topic he chose would turn to his favorite mech. If he tried to read, he'd find himself 'listening' for a signal that wasn't there. If he tried to go put in more time in medical, Ratchet would run him out, saying this was First Aid's one-on-one time. He was not authorized to go flying for the fun of it. With his alt-mode, it was never a good idea to be where people might see him, even more so than Cosmos and Skyfire. Cosmos looked like something locals generally denied existed and Skyfire resembled an Earthly jet enough that they overlooked him. Swoop looked like something that had once existed, completely recognizable, but also completely out of time. He was a notable anachronism.

Was that why Blaster was so displeased by his form? By all the Dinobots? As Seaspray said, his problem with them wasn't personal, they had barely interacted with Blaster since he arrived on Earth. Wheeljack would know. But Wheeljack was busy with a project and had asked not to be disturbed. Ironhide might know…

Bumblebee was still in the common room, playing a game of cards with Bluestreak now. They exchanged pleasantries. The gunner had just been released from medical with orders to light duty for a few days so Swoop asked him how he was faring and offered to bring a round of energon to the table. Probably not connecting Swoop's attention to Ratchet's direction to take in small amounts often, Blue happily accepted. Bumblebee said 'no thanks' as he laid out the remainder of the cards from his hand on the table. Blue groaned, losing, then brightly expressed gratitude as Swoop settled in with a cube for Bluestreak as well as himself.

-X-X-X-

Swoop lost track of time. The population of the common room grew. Bumblebee left and was replaced by Beachcomber and First Aid. Bluestreak left and was replaced by Sludge when the Dinos came in. Sludge seemed to still think it was his job to repair Swoop's relationship with Grimlock.

That presence was too much for Swoop. Not holding a grudge himself - he still planned to thank Grimlock for being a slag-head as soon as he got over being a slag-head - it was wearying to have to ignore the dirty looks and jibes coming from the other three Dinobots. He knew that Slag and Snarl were just following Grimlock's lead for their own meanness, not because they cared one way or the other about Swoop's choice of company, but it still hurt. Especially Snarl, with whom he came on-line for the first time in memory. He stood up to leave.

"No, you Swoop not leave already," Sludge complained. "We four can play game, yes?"

Beachcomber and First Aid were probably the most tolerant 'Bots on the planet. They both professed their willingness to interact with the Dinobots. To be fair, First Aid had known Swoop from the moment he was powered up in his current form, so he had no concept of Dinobots as 'other', no more than Protectobots were 'other' than Autobots, and Beachcomber was ... unique ... in his general acceptance of everything. Swoop knew, academically, that his perception of them as condescending was unfair. He was projecting his own prejudice, based on watching Grimlock's effect on the rest of the mechs in the room, on his friends.

First Aid was being his normal friendly self, and he liked to win. "Sure thing, Sludge-bot. You and 'Comber versus me and Swoop?" How could Swoop accuse First Aid of prejudice when he would choose Swoop for his partner at cards over the only other Autobot at the table?

Beachcomber knew it was a set-up. "Aw, 'Aid! You're breakin' my heart. Two medics on one side ain't fair."

Swoop smiled despite his funk. Beachcomber let it be 'fair' when it was the two medics versus him and Ironhide but ... No! He couldn't complete that thought, slamming poor Sludge himself!

Sludge didn't notice, he was looking at Swoop hopefully. _Not crush that, this Sludge's chance,_ he thought. "Right. Play, but you Beachcomber trade places with me Swoop." He was rewarded by Sludge's brightest smile. "You two not stand chance against us Dinobots!"

They swapped places and played. Swoop let his song file repeat continuously in the back of his processor. He tuned out the other occupants of the room - easier since Grimlock was no longer directly in his line-of-sight - and focused on carrying Sludge through the game of Euchre. Teaching Sludge to deal the cards almost became a spectator sport before he figured it out, but the cards survived and their watchers' interest waned when the game moved on normally. By the last hand, Sludge seemed to get it, at least able to quickly follow suit, and they eked out the last trick for the 10-9 victory. Sludge was thrilled: "We Dinobots win! Me Sludge winner!"

Beachcomber clapped the much bigger mech good-humoredly on the shoulder, "Yeah, that was a good game, too, Sludge. Ya did good. You sure this was your first time playin'?" Beachcomber was such a kind mech - how could Swoop accuse him of ill-will?

First Aid was happily shuffling the deck again. "Rematch?" he asked.

"Yes, this first time me Sludge play card game. You-cur fun, even while losing. Thank you, 'Comber, 'Aid. Thank you, Swoop!"

Swoop wondered if the odd mix of pride, happiness, and faint sadness he felt, looking at Sludge, were what Ratchet felt toward him sometimes. It might explain that look Swoop had never understood before, the one Ratchet wore when Swoop made a connection for himself after working at it for days or weeks. He shook it off and smiled for Sludge's sake. "It fun for me Swoop, too, Sludge. You Sludge learn game fast. Maybe 'Aid teach other games tonight?" The sensation of presence at the edge of his perception had grown, finally becoming undeniable: Ironhide was back in range! Skyfire would be landing shortly – Swoop got _15 minutes_ from Ironhide, clearly, but he seemed distracted. Swoop didn't press him. "Me Swoop go now. You Sludge did good, played well. Rematch later, 'Aid." He stood up again to leave.

First Aid, ever his friend, dimmed an optic at him purposefully, then turned to Sludge. "Have you ever heard of a game called War? It's very simple."

Glad at Sludge's eager reply, Swoop left the room, energon in hand. He had some things to do to make it easier for Ironhide to give him his full attention, and just enough time to do them.

-X-X-X-

In the short time they'd been bonded this was the longest they'd been apart. Ironhide felt nervous, and then disappointed with himself for being nervous. He knew Swoop was okay, the Dinos had returned from their training mission without mishap, but it was not the same as the certainty he'd so quickly grown used to having. He missed the happy presence at the edge of his thoughts that told him Swoop was there, missed the instants when Swoop would randomly think of him and they'd connect for a processor-cycle before going on about their business. He knew it was unreasonable, but he found that he feared coming home and not being able to feel that connection. He feared coming home and Swoop not wanting that connection anymore. As they left New York, that unfounded fear grew.

He was relieved when he registered the change in his field that meant he was in range of Swoop again. Nonchalantly, he asked Skyfire their ETA at the Ark.

"15 minutes," Skyfire answered.

Optimus, in truck-mode beside him in the bay, chuckled. "Only a few breems."

Maybe he didn't sound as nonchalant as he intended. He was glad he was in his van-mode: not only could his faceplates not give him away, he wasn't tempted to pace or fidget. Or, rather, he was tempted to both pace and fidget, but his form precluded it. Since Skyfire was willing to reach a higher top speed with them in their vehicle modes, pacing and fidgeting would make the trip take longer.

He was trying to sort out Swoop's thoughts from the noise with no luck. There seemed to be a repetition. What was Swoop up to?

The resonance was as pleasant as he remembered.

Was Swoop trying to block him out somehow?

He hadn't thought of that before. Maybe Swoop wasn't ready for him to be back yet? Where Swoop should be, there seemed to be some local broadcasting station. He couldn't filter it out and get anything recognizable. Whoever was running the station was having technical difficulties: he was sure the same song had started over.

_Are ya a sparklin' again? Knock it off. Swoop's got better thin's ta do than wait for yer sorry aft ta come home._ He realized he'd been expecting to be met at landing, assuming to converse with Swoop at the first opportunity while still airborne. He prepared himself for the usual arrival routine: after coming to a halt, Skyfire would let down the ramp and Ironhide would roll out behind Optimus. Being evening, Optimus would go to the common room to let the troops see he was back and Ironhide would go to their office, just to check messages. There wouldn't be any, since he checked right before they boarded, but he'd check anyway before moseying down to the common room to top up his energon levels before recharge.

Skyfire set down and extended their debarkation ramp. Optimus rolled forward. Ironhide fell in behind him. They transformed once they were clear of each other.

"We have a welcoming committee," Optimus said, smirking behind the battle mask.

Ironhide only half heard him. He was still trying to sort out Swoop's signal from the noise. He completed his transformation sequence and looked up. Omega Supreme sat at the edge of the woods, not far from the entrance to the Ark. Blaster, Wheeljack and Swoop stood around the entrance: Swoop and Wheeljack just outside, talking, and Blaster on the threshold. "Well I'll be," Ironhide drawled absently, smiling slowly when Swoop immediately met his gaze and offered him a coy little wave. He stopped trying to make sense of the interference. Their field resonance was as strong as ever.

"At least Wheeljack's intact," Optimus noted as they walked toward their friends. He refrained from laughing at Ironhide. His old friend looked like his processor might have gone into reboot, seeing Swoop waiting for him. Optimus exchanged greetings with Omega Supreme before being approached by Blaster, who seemed to expect Wheeljack to join him in his petition to the commander. "See you tomorrow, 'Hide," he called before turning his attention patiently to the data pad Blaster shoved at him. Wheeljack looked distinctly uncomfortable.

Ironhide only peripherally noticed any of that. He had optics only for Swoop and slowly walked toward him. When Wheeljack moved reluctantly to fill whatever role Blaster expected of him, Swoop remained.

"Hi!" Swoop offered brightly as Ironhide approached. He silenced his internal playback to more fully communicate with Ironhide.

"Evenin'," Ironhide replied. He stopped a neutral distance from the Dinobot, suddenly nervous again and unsure how to deport himself. Where minutes ago he'd been nervous about losing Swoop's attention, now he wasn't sure how to handle having it. The light from inside the base reflected off the planes of his face, highlighting his features beautifully. He almost said so. "Ya look - It's good ta see ya, Swoop. How're ya doin'?" _Silly ol' 'Bot,_ he chided himself, _yer bonded with him, for Primus' sake! Stop leakin' lubricant. Actions speak louder._ He started to move again, to close the distance.

Swoop beat him to it, laughing. Ironhide didn't realize he'd projected that last. Swoop caught him in a tight embrace and kissed him. _Better now,_ he answered directly and sent a disjointed stream of data to his partner about missing his presence, Sludge playing cards, 'Jack teasing Ratchet, and some things he'd like to do.

"Whoa, darlin'!" Ironhide said aloud, reaching up with both hands to cradle Swoop's face. They rested their foreheads together. "I'm tickled ta see you too, waitin' fer me an' all."

Swoop pulled Ironhide to him, running his hands sensuously down Ironhide's sides to his hips, tracing transformation seams with his thumbs. "Missed you 'Hide." Sensing there were no others in audio range - Omega and Skyfire were visible now only as vague silhouettes receding through the trees, and the other three had disappeared inside - Swoop decided to vocalize his intention. "Want touch, interface, overload, you 'Hide."

Ironhide allowed his engine to rev a little in answer, enjoying the way Swoop responded to it, holding perfectly still to let the vibration transfer into his frame where the red chassis contacted him. Optics off, his expression was blissful. Ironhide's energon flowed faster just knowing he was the cause of that look. "Ah-I missed you too, darlin'. Lemme grab a cube o' energon-" he stopped, focus on the packet of data Swoop sent him. His smile broadened, "Ya planned ahead."

-X-X-X-

Knowing how to exercise the field bond made interfacing an even more intense experience for them. Even without making a ported connection, being able to immediately register the effect every action had on the other increased the sense of intimacy. They could modulate each sensation if they chose. Swoop made it his goal this time to continue the overload for Ironhide as long as possible.

When Ironhide lost conscious function, Swoop turned the temperature of the recharge platform down a few degrees to help his partner's strained cooling system, then settled beside him comfortably. Again, he was grateful to the Protectobots for helping him bring his berth into Ironhide's room. He may not have space to sprawl like he did when he slept alone, but this room's original recharge platform had barely been large enough for Ironhide. The second-captain, for whom this state room was built, had been a smallish mech.

He had not survived the crash. Or, perhaps he had, but like Swoop: as a spark in stasis and not an intact mech who remembered leaving Cybertron.

As his systems cycled down from overcharging levels, Swoop wondered what it might be like to remember Cybertron. He had moments when he thought he remembered events that didn't fit in his conscious experience on Earth. He knew his name had been Divebomb. He didn't know how he knew that, but he'd once seen the crew manifest at departure and the name had leapt out at him in the same way he picked up every use of the word 'swoop' in text. It was his name. He also knew he wasn't the lost second-captain. He had a faint feeling of unease associated with Optimus Prime - that had translated into jealousy for a while - but he didn't know why. Watching Ironhide sleep, he wondered if he could ask.

If anyone would know Divebomb's story, it was Ironhide.

What if, as Divebomb, he and Ironhide hadn't gotten along? That was a strange thought.

What if, as Divebomb, he'd been different?

He decided it didn't matter. He was Swoop now. He had brothers. He knew his creators. He had a bond-mate. That made him better connected to the Autobot cause than most.

Being bonded made them unique in the Autobot ranks. Similar to but different from the two gestalt teams.

He pulled Ironhide close to his side, letting his lover rest on his wing so he could wrap his arms around the boxy form. Content, he settled into recharge.

-X-X-X-

Toward morning, Ironhide came back on-line. Swoop was already up; he could detect the soft grating sounds associated with Swoop drawing. He smiled and powered his optics. Swoop was sitting on the couch that defined the waking part of their living space, sketching something intently. Ironhide tried to gather the subject from his connection to Swoop, but was picking up that monotonous local broadcasting station again. He scowled.

Swoop looked up. "What wrong?" he asked, setting his pencil and paper down carefully and getting up. He radiated concern.

The music stopped; Ironhide could read Swoop's field clearly again. "I need ta have Ratchet check out mah receivers. I keep pickin' up somethin' that interferes with bein' able ta hear you." He sat up fully and Swoop knelt in front of him and took his hands, worried.

Swoop looked straight into his optics. Kneeling, his eyes were level with Ironhide's as he sat on the berth. He appeared to be listening intently, too, not projecting anything as he asked, "Hear now?"

Ironhide shook his head. "No. But I heard it yesterday right 'fore we landed. I couldn't make yer signal out then, either."

Swoop narrowed his optics in thought. He was receiving Ironhide perfectly. As Ratchet explained it, anything that affected one of their fields would equally disturb the other's. Touching, their fields might as well be the field of one mech. Swoop could find nothing wrong. He'd been able to detect Ironhide's major processor activities since before Skyfire landed, when Ironhide had been distracted by some other signal. He figured it out and relaxed. "That was me Swoop!" Swoop let go his hands and wrapped him up in a relieved hug, letting the song play through his vocalizer. Directly through their connection, he said, _This?_ As soon as Ironhide processed the information from his audio receptors, he relaxed against Swoop. _Remind me Swoop of you 'Hide._

Swoop was so happy, listening to it and enjoying having Ironhide in his arms that Ironhide couldn't help but like the song, too. As it wound down, Swoop kissed him.

"Swoop." Something about it disturbed him. He didn't want to ruin the song for Swoop, but he had to be sure, "I haven't said this outright, but I love you. Have since 'fore we lucked inta this bond we got."

Swoop cocked his head to one side and furrowed his brow, then leaned forward to rest his forehead carefully against Ironhide's. "Me Swoop know. Love you 'Hide. Why uneasy now?"

Optic-to-optic, Ironhide tried to smile reassuringly, squeezing Swoop's shoulders. "I want you to know that I'm not goin' anywhere. This ain't a fling." He kissed Swoop's brow ridge like a blessing. "You are mah angel. Period. None o' this _of-the-mornin'_ slag. Swoop, darlin', that song's about regrettin' a one night stand. Before the fact, even!" He searched Swoop's faceplates, still not sure he was making his point since Swoop really had nothing coming from him through their permanent resonance.

Swoop laughed. Ironhide realized that he was picking it up in stereo, laughter-as-sound and laughter-as-data. "Oh, 'Hide! No! Singer have accent like you 'Hide and sing to 'darling'. Sound like when you 'Hide with me Swoop!" Swoop kissed him, vividly recalling the first time he'd heard Ironhide use the endearment.

Ironhide wouldn't have thought of the details right then, but Swoop was actively projecting his memory of that first encounter, knowing it made all of Ironhide's systems cycle faster. With difficulty he broke the kiss and rested his face against Swoop's shoulder, preventing immediate resumption despite the fact that he wanted to continue, too. "Yer terrible!" he breathed, consciously forcing his engine to tone down, "We both hafta be someplace this mornin'."

Swoop continued sending the memory. "You 'Hide need new cooling system." He kissed the part of Ironhide's helm he could reach. "Today good as any." He knew he was going to get his way. He gently traced the edges of every armor panel he could reach on Ironhide. "Him Prime understand. Him Ratchet already explained." He was rewarded by a shudder through his lover that extended to their merged fields and passed through his own systems.

Ironhide knew he would give in. He had no resolve when it came to Swoop. That was why he had been so careful about their private time before that rainy night that drove them to the common room. Grimlock threw Swoop out of the Dinobot's dorm that night. He had to offer him his quarters, he had plenty of room for two. Right? "I am goin' to the Pit fer this. I know ya weren't like this before."

"Before what? Everything first for me Swoop. Maybe not first for me Divebomb, no way to know." Ironhide didn't react to the name except to note Swoop's claim of it. "Not important. We two are like this now." He kissed Ironhide, muffling his vocalization, "Get new cooling system today. Make full use of this one." Even if Ironhide's audios couldn't decipher the words, Swoop knew he could catch them through their resonance.

Ironhide succumbed. "Make full use o' this one?" He caressed the edges of Swoop's wings, trembling along with him. "You'll be the end o' me, darlin'."

-X-X-X-

The immediate benefit of being driven by a young medic into the overload that destroyed his cooling system was surviving to hear Ratchet swear.

Ironhide trusted that the long-term benefit would be more of the same.


	3. Forget You Have a Rootmode

Title: _Forget You Have a Root-mode_

Universe: loosely G1 cartoon. Sequel to _What You're Not Doing_ and _Just Call Me_.

Rated: NC-17 for detailed intimacy, physical and otherwise, between mechanical beings. Runs to plug-n-play, then sparks get involved.

Pairing: Ironhide/Swoop, established.

Author's Note: Plot? What plot?! There is always some sort of progress to note, even if just Prowl's deal with that Undersecretary of Defense. The Mile High Club challenge entry, March 2008 at MechaErotica. 4200 words.

-:- radio transmission -:-

* * *

Prowl finalized negotiations with the United States government, securing the Autobots' status as an allied foreign presence. The area of the Ark was officially and indefinitely 'leased' to them and would be treated as a guest military base, with appropriate restrictions on their air-space. It meant that they had their own area for "maneuvers" and could reasonably expect to be alone in that volume. Comm duty became more interesting for those who sat the post: they had to follow a script that sounded quite threatening and officious - Decepticon-like, most thought - to enforce the limits. They transmitted orders like "Cessna Two-Niner-One, this is Tower One, declare your intentions," and "Piper Zulu-Alpha. Tower One. Avert your course," which had to be uttered without a trace of humor. Bumblebee, in particular, had trouble taking it seriously. The military-looking aircraft among them gained an additional duty rotation, on-call to escort negligent pilots out to the approved distance and Air Force custody.

The area became known in the local media as "little Tonopah" after a few tabloids ran photos of Cosmos arriving and departing. One ran a fuzzy image of dinosaurs fighting that seemed to directly result in a drop in the rate of incursions: flying saucers had a following, creatures from the Cretaceous were too much to believe. For about a week, professional debunkers made the talk-show circuit, insisting neither of them existed, then interest in them waned.

Swoop was finally permitted the same privileges as those who could pass for human-designed aircraft. He flew every day after his duty was done. He took on more, helping Silverbolt train his Aerialbots. He loved to fly, loved to feel the wind across his plating, the lift on his wings, the vortices created around him by the slightest movement of his crest. For most of his existence, he was limited to flying during drills with his brothers.

His simple daydream of flying for the fun of it was fulfilled.

It was promptly replaced by a new one. He told Ironhide about it.

"No," his partner said when Swoop brought it up, shaking his head in the local gesture of denial. "No, darlin', I'm sorry. No. I know you love to fly, an' it makes me happy that you wanna take me with you. But no."

Swoop couldn't help it, he got defensive, purposely ignored any data available to him via their bond. Ironhide was the one mech outside of Ratchet whom he expected to at least always think about his ideas and not dismiss him outright. He lost the tenuous hold he had on a chipper outlook and closed himself off from his bond-mate. The Aerialbots had picked on him all afternoon - they were both envious of his status as a native of Earth and derisive - and he was feeling touchy, outcast from his brothers, not accepted among the other young flying mechs, and now shot down by his lover.

He narrowed his optics, "You Hide not trust me Swoop? Carry Grimlock from Alaska. Carry Snarl from far side of planet-" he spoke faster as he went, feeling himself get a bit shrill.

Noting the change in Swoop's tone as he followed that line of thought, Ironhide broke in. "No! Now, don't ya go jumpin' to conclusions without all the data. You've let Slingshot an' that Fireflight get to ya again, haven't you? I didn't say that, and I didn't ever think that. I trust you, you very well know. That is not the issue. Don't go tryin' ta guilt me inta doin' what you want." Ironhide put on his most stern expression and crossed his arms over his windshield.

Swoop towered over him, but still felt intimidated a bit: he couldn't deny that maybe he had been doing that. Slingshot acted like he looked up to Swoop in private, taking off beside him and begging for pointers on how to provide more effective air support until they were joined by the other Aerialbots, then he'd run Swoop down in an astrosecond. Fireflight meant well, but had an attention span that made Slag look like Prowl, always making it out after a close call as if Swoop had not given him clear instruction, forcing Swoop to habitually record every bit of his interaction with Fireflight. They tried even Swoop's patience. He realized he'd brought his frustration with them into his interaction with Ironhide. He dropped his optics to the floor and softened his posture, trying to project contrition and proper humility. He felt guilty for his reaction to hearing Ironhide answer in the negative.

"Oh, now, it ain't worth all that," Ironhide drawled. He also relaxed his stance, reaching out one hand to touch the little yellow Pteranodon top-knot on Swoop's chestplate. "I have no doubt you can carry the weight. That ain't my problem."

Swoop raised his optics to Ironhide's. Ironhide withdrew his hand and cycled his cooling system, not because he was overheating, but out of habit, using the sound of it as filler, a verbal stop. Swoop waited, optics bright, able to read a mix of emotions and reasons through his connection to Ironhide, but unable to pick any out as particularly strong or driving. Maybe just concern?

Ironhide rubbed the back of his neck with his left hand and dropped his head, hiding a bit behind his elbow in that characteristic way of his. "It's ah, knowin' what you really wanna be doin', when you've got me ah-up there with ya, that makes me skittish." He smiled and dropped his hand, holding it out to Swoop in a gesture of truce. "I'll agree to go flyin' with ya. I won't agree ta that." He noted the pleased look on Swoop's faceplates and was glad to see him relax, felt his own systems respond. He picked up a vivid sensory image from Swoop, two memories that had merged to make a fantasy for him. "Logistics are what they are. An' I prefer yer undivided attention."

Swoop wrapped Ironhide in an eager hug, finally sending and receiving as normal through their bond. "Fun to try, at least," he said, "can always land. Come flying soon." Clear as crystal, strong as the connection between them, they both realized Swoop would win agreement eventually. All he had to be was patient.

-X-X-X-

Several days later, Swoop talked Ironhide into a trial flight. Ironhide fretted, and asked Swoop to tighten up all the fasteners and fittings in his arms, since Swoop could really only carry a passenger by latching onto an appendage. Swoop tut-tutted at him happily, always pleased to attend to his partner and tinker and soothe: Ratchet had accepted him as his first Earthside student for a reason. The Dinobot's anticipation and building excitement infected Ironhide despite his personal misgivings. They went outside and watched the moon set, giving them the darkest sky. Swoop transformed and picked Ironhide up easily with his talons wrapped around Ironhide's forearms.

By virtue of their permanent resonance, Swoop's imagination got the better of both of them. Ironhide found his bond-mate's wish affecting him, despite himself.

Without warning, without a fully-formed first thought, let alone a second one, Swoop performed a roll, once completely around, scrambling Ironhide's directional sensors, and then half again, ending up flying upside-down with his Pteranodon belly to the stars and his crest to the ground, tens of thousands of feet below. Ironhide was disoriented, finding himself no longer held by the Dinobot's taloned feet but clinging by his own power as the cold, thin air rushed past them. Swoop laughed, projecting confidence and effortless control with vocalizer and processor, entering a lazy bank to stay in the Ark airspace. "Airlines mostly shut-down this late," he said, "but me Swoop stay in home space." He made his plating warm, sent gentle current through it to Ironhide, trying to entice Ironhide's basic programming to seek further contact.

The older mech recognized the tactic and the response of his systems, chuckling along with Swoop. "Yer terrible," he said, changing his grip on Swoop to flatten more against him. "Think you can handle this, do ya, darlin'?" he teased, and felt their bank straighten out. "D'ya really want me to distract ya from yer flyin'?"

Swoop was laughing, and Ironhide could read a reply about multi-tasking being formulated in his CPU, but had a few tricks of his own.

_Yer not the only one who can perform maneuvers without thinkin' 'em through first,_he sent, moving smoothly up Swoop's form to get in range of his neck. Not letting a hint of his intention through to the fore of his mind where Swoop might pick it up, he ran his fingers out the leading edge of each of Swoop's wings. Swoop threw his head back, completely removing the obstacle of his beak from Ironide's goal: his neck. Ironhide moved in.

Smug thoughts of multi-tasking fled him as Swoop found all his faculties required to do two simple things: fly and respond to his lover. Never before had he felt trapped by his alt-mode. It was confinement from which he thought he might not want release. Ironhide catalogued the differences between Swoop-as-biped and Swoop-as-dino, exploring his neck and the underside of his beak with lip components and glossa, stimulating the sensors that were already occupied with aerodynamics in their present state. Swoop shuddered beneath him. Every bit of processor power not required for straight and level flight turned to what Ironhide was doing.

"Ooooh, 'Hide," he breathed, and moved his feet to the limits of their range, just able to get hold of the edge of an armor plate on one of Ironhide's legs.

"Sshhh, darlin'," Ironhide whispered, not needing to be louder than the air rushing past their audios because Swoop could 'hear' the thought through their bound fields. He trailed his hands down the surface of each of Swoop's wings, finding Swoop's armament within easier reach in this mode. He traced the edges of the bracketry and catches, and let disengaged transformation gears in his forearms start up, adding to the stimulation of the areas. Swoop's field flared brightly, taking Ironhide's with it: they hadn't known those attachments were so sensitive.

"You should let me-" Ironhide began.

-:-Swoop?-:- concern was clear in Bumblebee's hail of the Dinobot. -:-Swoop, buddy, this is Bumblebee, are you all right?-:-

Ironhide held still and Swoop found the wherewithal to answer. -:-B-Bumblebee. Yes, me Swoop f-fine. Just f-flying.-:- He might have said something more but Ironhide chose that moment to increase the power to his own field.

"'Hide!" Swoop exclaimed, completely missing Bumblebee's next transmission. Swoop rolled forty-five degrees, causing Ironhide to hold still and hang on. -:-Say again, Bumblebee?-:-

-:-Just let me know if you need me to send the cavalry, all right, Swoop? That field flare looked like a missile impact on radar. Bumblebee out,-:- but he didn't cut the connection before his knowing chuckle came through.

Swoop returned to flying upside-down. Ironhide resumed both his activity and his train of thought: "You should let me do for ya in yer alt-mode when yer attention ain't divided." He took a play from Swoop's repertoire and sent a vivid sensory image of what he wanted to do in the privacy of their room.

"Mmmmmmhh," Swoop agreed wordlessly, suppressing another flare. He found a grip on Ironhide's plating with his talons again, as gentle as he could be within the limits of his dino-mode. "Go down now." He rolled back to right-side up. Ironhide had a grip on his intakes, but his hands were small enough not to restrict the airflow notably.

It took only a few minutes to land and walk inside. Back in their quarters, they were both reminded of the night Ironhide first invited Swoop there, each as aware of the other now as then. Maybe more so, even. Swoop fell back a pace, letting Ironhide precede him into the room, then he lingered in front of the closed door after stepping inside. Halfway to Swoop's berth - the original had been too small for comfort - Ironhide turned back to look at him. Swoop smiled that coy little smile and averted his optics shyly. Ironhide took a step back toward him and held out a hand.

"Yer terrible," he smiled in amusement as he repeated his earlier comment, now for a display of the opposite behavior in his partner, "come 'ere, darlin', and lemme finish what we started." Swoop grasped his hand and closed the distance between them. They kissed. Ironhide caressed the surfaces of Swoop's wings. _Transform for me,_ he sent through their merged fields, _let me do for ya-_he didn't finish the thought. Swoop transformed, looking at him now through the eyes of his dinosaur face. Ironhide dimmed the lights to his personal favorite level, that reminded him of street lights on Cybertron. Swoop uttered a tiny squawk, curious and birdlike. Ironhide stepped into him, under his beak, and repeated the treatment he'd given Swoop's neck aloft.

Swoop had very little he could do to respond, alt-mode not made for any sort of activity on the ground. He sent current through his plating again and vocalized. "Ohhhhh. Feels good," he said, holding his head back to try to give Ironhide all the access he seemed to want.

Ironhide again reached out to touch Swoop's armaments. "Let 'em go," he asked, and Swoop triggered the catches holding the bombs in place. Ironhide caught them in either hand and stepped away momentarily to lay them on a table.

Swoop lowered his head to watch Ironhide's movements. His partner returned to him and set his hands on either side of his face. Optic-to-optic, fields already merged, there was nothing unknown between them. Ironhide turned his engine on; Swoop felt the vibration of it through the hands on his beak, through the places where Ironhide's frame touched his, through the deckplates beneath them. He trembled.

Suddenly, he wanted his primary mode, wanted to run his hands along the edges of Ironhide's plating and give as good as he got. "Let me-"

"Ssshh, darlin', relax," Ironhide shushed him, moving against him. Barely powering his vocalizer, Ironhide promised, "I'm gonna make ya forget you have a root-mode, make yer field flare so hot you'll think yer spark caught yer platin' on fire," he found a way to get leverage and lift Swoop in his odd dinosaur form, and carried him to the berth to lay him on it. The crest was awkward, but he got Swoop positioned so he could move his head freely. "Just relax. You may not have the wind over yer platin', but if you give me the chance, I'll make ya forget to miss it."

Swoop believed him.

Ironhide tuned the berth's temperature setting to draw heat away from them, dropping it to nearly the temperature of the atmosphere they'd flown through earlier. He positioned himself on top of Swoop as he'd been when Bumblebee interrupted them. "Now, where was I?" he asked rhetorically, mouthing Swoop's neck and fondling the now-empty armatures on Swoop's wings.

Swoop trembled helplessly, unable to do anything but register Ironhide: the pressure of his weight against him, the thrum of his engine, the touch of his hands on his wings and the kisses on his neck plating. He vocalized softly. His - their - field began to flare dimly, pushing out from them.

Ironhide moved down his lover's body and off to one side. He nibbled along the part of Swoop's right wing that was usually covered by a missile. When he came to it, he wrapped his glossa around the bracket, lifted his left hand up to the leading edge of that wing, caressing every sensor node within reach. Swoop's wing twitched beneath him and the Dinobot moaned, beak agape, optics off. Relying on his knowledge of Swoop's robot mode, Ironhide left off massaging the bracket on Swoop's left wing with his fingertips - _I'll get to that side in a tick, darlin',_he thought - and slid his right hand into Swoop's beak, seeking the circuitry that nominally resided in Swoop's chest and could always send his processors into reboot. He made the connection there repeatedly and electricity crackled along Swoop's beak and the plating of his arm.

Pteranodon feet moved, desperately seeking something to hold onto. They found Ironhide's chassis and latched on, talons grasping his sides. "Oooooh, 'Hide," he gasped.

Ironhide coiled his glossa tightly around the sensitive bracket and set his mouth down around it. Swoop's wing shook, and came into resonance with the gears in Ironhide's forearms, in synch with his engine. Their fields flared together.

Swoop completely lost track of what Ironhide was doing. His CPU reset. Ironhide was attending his left wing, free now somehow from both Swoop's beak and his feet. One skilled gray hand was stimulating every pressure point in that wing, the other was tracing the lines of his abdominal plating, heading slowly, teasingly toward his interface coverplate. Ironhide lay atop him, half against his torso, half against that wing, legs to either side of Swoop's left leg. Swoop tried to buck against him, to increase the pressure of their plating against each other or to speed the progress of his fingers to his interface hardware.

"Mmmmh," he voiced. He wanted to beg for more, faster, harder, but couldn't form the thoughts, let alone the words to describe what he wanted.

Ironhide chuckled, mouth against the surface of his wing, letting the sound carry to his young lover not only as the signal on their combined field and the usual wave of disturbance in the air between them, but as vibration against the sensitized plating of that wing.

The promise in it, and the joy, left Swoop suddenly content in his less-capable form. He found he could wrap his stubby dinosaur legs around Ironhide's thigh; he opened the cover of his interface port and moaned.

"What should be first, darlin'?" Ironhide drawled slowly, fingertips mapping the orifice.

Swoop held still, tension building in him, expressed only as increased pressure from his legs and talons. His wings trembled.

"Shall I plug you inta me?" his lover continued, drawing his interface cable from its place gently, fondling the end of it as he kissed the empty bombardier's bracket.

He couldn't answer except to moan again, head thrown back, beak open in abandon, arching against Ironnhide as much as he could.

"Or shall ah-I plug inta you?" The slowly stated question hung in his otherwise empty processor as he heard Ironhide's interface cover slide aside.

Connections made - order forgotten - electricity flowed between them, across their plating and through the two lines connecting them. Sound filled the room: crackling current, whirring gears, cycling pumps and pressurized fluids. Someone was vocalizing, getting steadily louder, matching the energy building in his frame. Ironhide touched his face, traced his optics gently, then the edge of his beak. He realized he was running his vocalizer and stopped abruptly with a gasp. "Oh, 'Hide," he said softly. He moved his wings to the extremes of their range of motion, forward and back, and felt Ironhide shift against him. He wanted, but didn't know what he wanted. He repeated the movement of his wings.

Ironhide was holding onto him, and had worked one hand into his chest. Current rippled sensuously over their plating.

He felt his spark, the core of his being, pulse in its casing. He knew what he wanted. "Ironhide," he panted, and felt the effect of his lover's full name. They shuddered together. He briefly forgot what he was going to say. His spark pulsed, as if to reach for the fingers, the contact that was so close, but so far away. He tried again. "Ironhide. Don't stop." He trembled and their field pulsed out violently. The lights in the room cut off. He used his wings to shift them, bringing Ironhide more tightly into his side, his hand a few microns closer. "Just. A little bit. Farther-"

Ironhide read it, clearly got the desire from him. Moving to mouth his audio, Ironhide gently pushed his hand farther toward the waiting spark. "Are you sure, darlin'? You want me to-"

He didn't need to hear the question, he understood, and he was sure. Projecting as strongly as he could, he answered, able to form only one word: "Yes yes yes yes yes yes ye-es -" He lost any sense of volume control as Ironhide's hand came into contact with his spark core.

-X-X-X-

Being confined to the limits of his dino-mode seemed to open up possibilities for Swoop. It certainly made him more vocal. He sounded and felt as if he was on the edge of a debilitating energy flare as he panted out Ironhide's name - all three syllables - twice then "Don't stop."

Shaking through a field pulse, Ironhide didn't think Swoop heard him, but he offered assurance anyway: "I wouldn't stop for Cybertron." The lights cycled off: that last electrical burst might have tripped the breaker. Swoop moved his wings ineffectually, as if straining for something. _Is this like a bondage fetish?_Ironhide wondered.

"Just a little bit farther-" Swoop gasped out, and Ironhide read it clearly from him, he wanted his spark touched, drawn into the intimacy they already had.

He didn't really need to ask, connected as they were by field and cable, but he wanted confirmation, eons of acculturation telling him this would be more momentous than when they initiated the field-bond. He didn't even get the entire question out before Swoop was answering him, one word, over and over, "Yes." Every bit of energy in the Dinobot's large reserve tried to pass through Ironhide, via ported connection, via field connection, via conduction from his spark through Ironhide's plating and circuits and tubing. Both their cooling systems responded, driving the temperature in the room up. Ironhide felt his own spark respond. A part of his processor - or was that Swoop's? - wondered if the heat from them would cause the missiles across the room to detonate or the weapons on Ironhide's shelves to fire, then their processors stopped, the sparks they served otherwise occupied, succumbing to the sensory overload.

-X-X-X-

Was he alive? Was he on fire? Was he melting? Was he plasma, vibrating with the strings that composed his quarks? Was he a particle in the cosmic wind? He had sense of nothing except the presence with him: _Ironhide_.

Ironhide was communicating, but it made little sense beyond emotion. Love. Devotion. Connection. _Swoop?_Ironhide asked, and he didn't understand what that was supposed to mean. It seemed out of context. Was it a request? A command? He wanted to please Ironhide, wanted to do... anything Ironhide might want from him. _Darlin',_ that made sense, wasn't that his name? _Did ya enjoy that? Are ya all right?_

_Yes._ It was all he could do, all he could think. It described everything he felt in that instant, positive and affirmative and agreeable and pleased... _Love you, Ironhide._

_I love you, too, Swoop._He realized he sensed that in a physical way, too, audio sensors functioning in conjunction with his mind. He heard that statement and felt completed, but there was that word again... "That's yer name, darlin': Swoop." There was another moment where nothing made sense to him, then Ironhide laughed, and hugged him tightly.

Hearing with audio receivers, feeling with tactile sensors, processing in a computer, his sense of self returned. He was connected to Ironhide, but a separate entity. He found his own vocalizer, now that he realized he had one, and used it as Ironhide was using his own. "I. Am Swoop?"

"Yeah, yer Swoop. You really know how to make an old bot feel good about himself."

He felt Ironhide against him, on his wing, touching his plating. He powered up optics and lifted his head to look at his mate. It was difficult, and Ironhide had to help him into the position he wanted, so they could look at each other. "That was nice, wasn't it?"

"Aye." Swoop thought that was enough to say. He lay on the berth and shifted his wings, wondering how he remembered moving as Ironhide moved when his form didn't have the same appendages his lover's did, proportioned nothing like him. Ironhide rocked up and away from him, and he made a sound to protest, not wanting to be without his bond-mate but unable to hold onto him.

"I'm just gonna stand aside so you can transform an' we can catch a little recharge."

It took a processor cycle but he grasped for understanding and found his cache. It had been there the whole time. Ironhide looked at him with concern; it passed when Swoop transformed and sat up on the berth.

"You 'Hide wanted to make me Swoop forget root mode," he remembered, reaching for red plating and drawing the smaller mech to him. "Forgot own name! Lost cache. Had only you, 'Hide." He wrapped his massive limbs around his lover's boxy frame, nuzzled his faceplates into Ironhide's neck joint. Ironhide hugged him back. "Have only you, Ironhide." A long pause, then, "That all that matters."


End file.
